


Caught By You

by JamieS1025



Series: The Devil Wears Prada [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Fashion & Couture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieS1025/pseuds/JamieS1025
Summary: I'm not dead. I promise. I just have been extremely busy lately. Here is some more Prada fun, unedited, so hopefully not too many mistakes. Enjoy!





	Caught By You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead. I promise. I just have been extremely busy lately. Here is some more Prada fun, unedited, so hopefully not too many mistakes. Enjoy!

Yura Plisetsky always prided himself on being an excellent assistant. Having first applied at _Runway_ magazine in his early years post-college, Yura managed to snag a simple receptionist job on the ground level answering phone call inquiries. Years of dedication and struggle earned Yura his right as the first assistant to the Viktor Nikiforov. He knew how to play the game and follow the rules to get what he wanted.

Which is why it physically hurt him to watch Yuuri work.

The older man was always fighting his position, struggling to make his job something more. Yuuri was not cut out for _Runway Magazine_. He had zero fashion sense and always ordered the high-fat meals from the cafeteria. Yura still didn’t understand how he managed such a toned figure.  

Yuuri answered an incoming call, screwing up the greeting for the hundredth time.

The younger blonde wasn’t sure if he could stand it anymore without ripping his hair out.

Halfway through his long-distance call with the assistant of Vera Wang, Viktor Nikiforov himself strolled through the front glass doors. An army of assistants and stylists followed along with him for their morning meeting. Viktor continued his conversation as he shrugged off his custom _Marc Jacobs_ fur coat and deposit the item across Yuuri’s desk. He straightened the arms of his dress shirt as he made for his office desk.

Yuuri seemed to disapprove of the action and before Yura could cut him off, placed a hand over the receiver of the phone and called out Viktor’s name. Said man paused to look back, noting Yuuri’s unimpressed face.

“Yes?”

Yuuri gave him a scolding look. “Don’t throw your coat on my desk. Hang it up,” he murmured around the phone, removing his hand to reply to the other assistant when asked.

A few of the other assistant’s gasp at the comment. Yura wanted to slam his own head into his desk. He was about to hurry over and handle the situation when Viktor burst out laughing.  

Laughing? Viktor Nikiforov… was laughing?

Most of the assistants shared a look of shock. Too everyone’s surprise, Viktor moved forward to pluck the discarded coat off the Yuuri’s desk and walk around him to hang the item in the closet. Once his coat was secure, Viktor paused to place a hand on Yuuri’s forehead, gently pushing his hair away from his eyes.

“Thank you,” Yuuri mouths and returns to his phone call. Viktor can only smile in return.

As if nothing has even happened, Viktor turns his attention to the others in the room, smile dropping. “Is there a reason why we are all standing around?”

A chorus of ‘no sir’ and ‘sorry sir’ irrupt throughout the office. All available employees push their way into Viktor’s office to set up for the morning meeting before they waste any more time.

Yura watches his boss follow the team, jaw practically on the floor.

Before he closes the double-French doors, Viktor makes eye contact with Yura and winks. “Yura,” he starts, “Please make sure Yuuri is ready for the Spring gala tonight. I want to have both of my assistants with me.”

“But the Spring gala is only for the first assistant,” Yura responds without thinking.

Viktor lips tug into a coy smile. “I’m feeling adventurous today. Please take care of it.”

He doesn’t wait for a response and closes the doors to signal the start of the meeting.

Yura sighs. He doesn’t remember signing up for babysitting duty as a job assignment.

 

* * *

 

“I literally don’t know how you survived being alive this long, but it’s about to get worse,” Yura informs as he drops several large black binders onto Yuuri’s desk. The second assistant appears confused by the statement. “These are Viktor’s client portfolios. He is horrible with names and expects the first assistant to learn each one along with their photo and their partner.”

Yuuri still appears confused. “Okay? But I’m the second assistant.”

“And in a sick sense of humor, the second assistant. Viktor has decided that you will come to the gala tonight. Formal wear. Please tell me you own something besides ugly sweaters?”

“Tonight?”

“Did I literally just stutter stupid. Yes, tonight. You need to learn these names and wear something presentable. Please for the love of god don’t dress like an old widow.”

Yuuri was sure he should be offended by the statement but merely picks at the bottom of his sweater. “They aren’t ugly…”

Yura groans loudly. “Just… go see Chris. I’ll tell him you are coming by for some clothes. The blonde man moves around his own desk to pick up the phone. When Yuuri didn’t move fast enough, added, “GO!”.

It was a short walk down to the design studio were Chris is stationed and Yuuri prides himself on only getting lost once. He enters the frosted glass doors of the design studio to find a horde of fashion merchandise lining every available wall. Yuuri is a little overwhelmed by the sight.

“So, the time has come for me to work my magic?” a voice calls from calls. Chris appears from one of the inner rooms, a confident smirk resting on his lips.

Yuuri frowns, “I’m not sure this is necessary.”

“Oh, _mon cheri_ , don’t you want to dress to impress tonight?”

The frown on Yuuri’s face deepens. “I don’t usually care what people think of me based on my clothing, Chris.”

Chris laughs. He gestures for Yuuri to follow him into the back room. “No sweetheart, you absolutely do not. But I was taking more in the sense of catching someone’s eye.”

Confusion seems to be the topic of the day for poor Yuuri. “Who?”

Chris stops in front of a mannequin in the backroom, holding an arm out in a presentation. Yuuri – who has never cared about designer clothing- cannot look away. The outfit consists of a tight black material with mesh cutouts along the chest and back. Sparkling diamonds glitter in an asymmetrical design from the right shoulder and along the waist. Chris as accented that piece with a black choker and black, red bottom heeled stilettos.

“This is a limited edition design from the _On Love_ collection. By limited, I mean the only one. Now, normally I would not be just handing this out to anyone, but Viktor has been so uninspired lately,” Chris winks, “I’m sure seeing you in this little number will cheer him right up.”

Yuuri flushes a bright shade of red. “I can’t wear that. I don’t think it will even fit me.”

“But you do what to impress Viktor then?” Chris is smiling knowingly.

“What… no… um, that’s not what I said.” Yuuri shakes his open-palmed hands in front of him nervously, flustered.  

Chris smiles widens. He glances at his wristwatch and nods toward the doors. “You are going to be late for the designer reveal. Come back around 6 tonight and I’ll help you get ready.”

Although he is still hesitant, Yuuri knows he will not be getting out of this one and nods. He thanks Chris politely before leaving to return to his office. A quick glance at a clock in passing shows he will be right on time.

When he arrives, Viktor’s office is swarming with activity as people prepare for the presentation. Yuuri grabs his notebook and Viktor’s favorite water before settling on the couch next to his boss. In ritual, Yuuri opens the water and holds it out for Viktor without even looking at him, eyes focused on the designer rushing people around. The drink is taken from his hand with a gentle hum of approval, which Yuuri has learned to be an acknowledgment of appreciation.

The room settles into silence as the designer announces his new spring collection, noting that this year will focus on bold colors and subtle accents. Model after model appears from the back room as the designer shows off his hard work. Yuuri still has no idea what he is looking at but notices the way Viktor leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, one hand covering his mouth. The way Viktor works with such dedication and a critical eye has Yuuri smiling lightly.

At the end of the show, the designer announces that he has been working on a special design for Viktor to wear for the Spring gala that evening. The model comes cat walking from the backroom, hands in the pocket of his red loose-fitting pant-suit. He stops on the platform, striking a pose, before turning around to display the giant red bow along that back of the suit.

Although designing is not Yuuri’s strong point, he is one-hundred percent sure that should be allowed to be worn by anyone. _Ever._

All eyes in the room turn to Viktor who has not moved a muscle since the reveal. Slowly he leans back on the couch, arms crossing his chest, and the smallest pout taking his lips.

The designer bows and immediately rushes the model of the stage with multiple apologies. The magazine staff begins packing up the clothing and rushing the items from the room in a haste. Yuuri has no idea what is going on, but suddenly Yura is standing in front of the couch with Viktor’s coat.

“You have reservations for lunch with the editor of Vogue,” he announces and holds out the coat. Viktor sighs, but stands to accept the jacket and is ushered from the office to the awaiting car downstairs.

When Yura returns, Yuuri is sitting at his desk typing. He pauses to look at the younger blonde.

“What just happened in there?”

Yura sighs. “Social Suicide. He’s going to have to change his whole collection now.”

Yuuri scrunches his nose. “All because Viktor made a face at the last outfit?”

“Apparently you still haven’t caught on to how influential Viktor is to the fashion industry,” Yura says, slumping down into his chair. “That outfit was really an insult though. Did you see it?”

Yuuri hums. He cannot degree. He pulls out one of the binders to start reviewing the names. A glance at the clock tells him he has about five hours to remember every detail.

Standing from his desk chair, Yura collects his belongings. “I am going to run out and grab my outfit for tonight. You stay here and make sure to answer the phones.”

The younger blonde does not wait for a response and leaves the office. Yuuri sighs. It’s going to be a long day at this rate. He focuses his attention back on the names he needs to remember.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening after a sheer miracle from Chris, Yuuri found himself being placed into a private car that would take him straight to the gala. Even after insisting that he could take a taxi, Chris shooed him into the car with a promise to take care of both his beautiful outfit and Viktor. Yuuri flushed brighter than the soles of his shoes and Chris laughed heartedly as he shut the door.

As the car pulled up to the main entrance with a full red carpet outside, Yuuri’s anxiety started to get the better of him. He still didn’t fully understand why he was required to be at the gala in the first place and how did he even let Chris convince him that he could pull off an outfit like the one he had on. Maybe he should just go home and call it quits while he was ahead.

“We’re here, sir,” the driver announced as he exited to open Yuuri’s side of the car.

Too late. He could do this. It was just one night of work with his gorgeous boss… wait… did he just call him gorgeous again?

The door to Yuuri’s side of the car opened and the drive held out a polite hand due to already seeing the high stilettos he was wearing. Yuuri sighed. ‘Here goes nothing,” he thought.

He exited the car swiftly and expertly. Years of ice staking gave him excellent balance in any shoe. He was flashed by a few cameras and a couple people shouted for a photo, but as he was not a main celebrity he passed without much resistance. As he ascended the stairs, Yuuri spotted Yura halfway up with a cell phone pressed to his ear searching the crowd. The younger blonde had taken to wearing a formal black suit with the jacket unbuttoned and a tiger print V-neck underneath. Viktor was nowhere to be seen.

“Yura,” Yuuri called as he approached. The younger glanced in his direction, scowled, and looked away. A moment passed before he performed a double-take.

“Holy shit! Yuuri? What the fuck happened to you?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I guess I clean up nice. Where’s Viktor?”

Yura groaned. “I lost him the moment he stepped out of the damn car. I swear to God he needs to be kept on a leash.”

As if summoned by the name alone, Viktor approached the pair from the bottom of the stairs, smiling brightly. “There you are little kitten. I lost you. Seems like you picked up a friend along the way- a pretty one at that- and who might you be?”

Yuuri turned around to face his boss, allowing one hand to rest on his hip that he cocked out. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, radiating confidence from somewhere deep inside him. “Hello Viktor, I believe we have already met.”

The look of surprise on Viktor’s face was worth the embarrassment he would feel later for his boldness. “Yuuri? My god, what happened to you?” he realizes that might be the wrong thing to say a minute too late, “I mean… uh… you look amazing.”

“Seriously piggy, I didn’t even know you had a waist like this.” Yura’s hands are poking his sides and he can’t help but laugh in response.

“Thank you,” Yuuri replies. “But I think we should get back to business?”

Viktor hesitates, but nods. Yuuri takes a moment to appreciate the black three-piece suit and red button-down Viktor has chosen. His hair has been pulled back into a high pony-tail. Yuuri finds it suddenly odd that they are wearing the same colors.

“Did Chris pick your suit?” he asks as Viktor offers his arm for Yuuri to hold onto as they ascend the rest of the stairs. Yuuri takes it without hesitation.

“Yes? Why?” Viktor responds with a confused glance.

With a smile, Yuuri shakes his head. “You do realize he set us up like a prom couple, right?”

Viktor pauses, still confused. He glances over Yuuri’s outfit once again. Then he glances at himself. “We match, don’t we?”

“Smile for the camera!” Yura says. Otabek has joined the group with his camera and is snapping photos at Yura’s request. “My babies grow up so fast,” Yura coos over-dramatically.

Viktor is laughing now too. “Wait, we need the correct pose. Yuuri? Come here.”

Viktor holds out a hand to take Yuuri’s, and once he has him, spins him around until Viktor is holding Yuuri around the waist, back to chest, both their arm intertwined in the typical prom photo pose.

Yura is practically crying on the floor from laughing so hard.

“Well, seems to be like the real party is over here.”

The voice causes both Yura and Viktor to drop the smiles they are wearing. Slowly Viktor lets go of Yuuri and turns to address the new voice. The smile on his lips is clearly forced. “Well hello, JJ. It’s been a while. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Surprise! I just couldn’t miss it for the world, y’know? There is just so much beautiful fashion here in the States.” The man, JJ, states with a wide grin. He motions to the woman on his arm. “I don’t believe I have had the opportunity to introduce you to my wife, Isabella. Darling, this is Viktor Nikiforov.”

They exchange pleasantries, but the air remains tense.

“I hope to see you around soon. Let’s do lunch,” JJ states with a wave of his hand. Viktor politely agrees and asks him to contact his assistant, before JJ takes off into the crowd of people.

“He’s such as asshole,” Yura murmurs.

“Yura,” Viktor reprimands. He straightens his suit before glancing between his assistants. Yuuri can immediately tell the change in his behavior. “Let’s make our rounds.”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Yuuri finds himself nursing his fourth glass of champagne as the follow Viktor through his ritual of greeting the guest. His head as started to feel a little fuzzy and his cheeks have flushed with a moderate amount of color, but overall Yuuri feels he is holding the alcohol well.

Yura seems unphased as well as he types away on his cellphone behind Viktor.

A woman smiles in their direction and begins her approach. Her bright orange hair sets her aside from the crowd. Viktor tilts his head in the direction of Yura in an indication that he doesn’t know this person’s name. Yuuri elbows the blonde man to get his attention.

“Oh, that’s…uh… oh shit, what’s her name?” Yura mumbles, fumbling through the names in his head.

Viktor gives him a distinctive look.

Just before the woman reaches them, Yuuri leans in close to Viktor’s ear. “Vivienne Westwood. Husband, Andreas. She launched your military collection two seasons ago.”

Yuuri steps back to sip at his glass of champagne right as the woman greets Viktor. Thanks to him, Viktor’s greeting appears much more individualized.

Yura mumbles a quiet ‘Thank you’ from his side and has since pocketed the phone. They watch the interaction of the pair before them with mild interest, and once Viktor has shooed her off toward her husband, he turns to his assistants. Yura expects to be reprimanded.

“Yura, isn’t Beka around here?” Viktor asks, adjusting his cufflinks.

Surprised, Yura nods an affirmative.

“Great, go spend some time with him.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but Viktor raises his hand in a stop motion. The same hand is then held out to Yuuri. “I plan on seeing just how well Yuuri can dance these shoes. I must say, they are an impressive height.”

Glancing from the hand to his stilettos, Yuuri flushes a brighter shade of pink. Before he can decline, Yura is grabbing the glass from his hand and nudging him toward Viktor. In what feels like one giant sweep, Yuuri finds himself on the dance floor with Viktor’s hand holding is own and the other around his waist. The moment their eyes meet, Yuuri knows he is screwed.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he whispers.

Viktor smiles, “Just follow my lead then.”

By the second song, Viktor has determined that Yuuri is a natural learner. He mimics his movements perfectly. Together they twirl around the dance floor, matching beat for beat. Even other couples have stopped to watch the show.

As the song fades into an ending, the pair comes to a stop toward the edge of the dancefloor. Yuuri has taken to playing with the ends of his silver-hair that have fallen over his shoulder. The applause from the small crowd is drowned out by the next song, but Viktor doesn’t even notice as Yuuri looks up at him. Chocolate brown meet cerulean.

“Is it bad that you know something won’t work out, but you want it anyway?” Yuuri asks in a mere whisper.

“What do you mean?”

Yuuri smiles softly. He reaches up to caress Viktor’s bottom lip with his thumb, eyes darting between the movement and sky-blue eyes.

“Yuuri,” Viktor questions gently, but Yuuri pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. The action does little to stop the questions inside of the older man and as soon as Yuuri removes the finger he goes to ask again but instead is silenced with a pair of lips being pressed against his own. Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri was kissing him.


End file.
